Page 67 of Tag (The Golden Team #9)

Aponi

T he mine loomed ahead, a black mouth carved into the side of the mountain, its rusted support beams jutting like broken teeth. The air smelled of dust and something older—like the earth had been holding its breath for a hundred years.

Gideon killed the headlights as we rolled off the highway and onto the dirt track. Gravel crunched under the tires, too loud in the silence.

“Half a mile,” Callahan whispered from the passenger seat.

I gripped the edge of the seat, scanning the ridgelines. Moonlight painted everything silver, and the shadows were thick enough to hide an army. My pulse thudded harder with every turn in the road.

Tag leaned forward between the seats. “Pull us behind that outcrop. We go the rest of the way on foot.”

We dismounted quickly, boots sinking into the powdery dirt. The cold bit at my cheeks, the wind picking up just enough to carry the faintest echo of… an engine.

Gideon’s hand went up. “Stop.”

Faron walked closer. “Stay next to one of us.”

Gideon’s hand went up. “Stop.”

We froze.

Through the stillness, a low rumble grew louder. Headlights swept over the ridge to our right, then another pair behind them. Two SUVs, moving slow, deliberate.

Graves.

We ducked into the rocks as the vehicles rolled to a stop less than a hundred yards from the mine entrance. Doors opened, figures spilling out—shadows with rifles slung low, scanning the dark like they already knew we were here.

Tag crouched beside me, his voice a razor-edged whisper. “We can’t let them get inside first.”

“Then we go now,” I said.

He studied me for a heartbeat, then nodded. “On my mark.”

The wind shifted, carrying a sound from the other side—boots on stone. My stomach dropped. “Tag… they’ve got people coming in from the west too.”

That meant we weren’t looking at a simple standoff. We were looking at a chokehold.

Tag’s hand found my shoulder, steady and firm. “Then we break it before it closes.”

He lifted his rifle, the night holding its breath with us. And for a long, electric moment, everything was still—until the first shot cracked through the darkness and all hell broke loose.